


Imprinted

by soongtypeprincess



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Also the angel has an Instagram, Crowley is a Softie, Ducks, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Silly, well they're engaged but for tagging sake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-08 22:05:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19876813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soongtypeprincess/pseuds/soongtypeprincess
Summary: Crowley finds a lonely duckling.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a really cute tumblr post with a cute duckling and...it just went from there haha.
> 
> I do not own these characters.

Crowley shot through the book shop door, his hand tucked into his black blazer. He rushed into the back room to find the angel on the sofa. 

“There you are!” he said. “You’re late, dear.” He noticed Crowley’s hand in his jacket and frowned. “Is everything alright? Did something happen?”

Crowley smirked as he sat next to him. He slowly pulled his hand out of his blazer and a yellow duckling gave out a short peep as he set it in his lap.

Aziraphale’s frown instantly melted and he cooed, “Ohhh, my goodness! Hello, there, little one!” He reached out his finger and stroked the duckling’s tiny yellow head. “You’re such a precious litt–wait, a moment! Why do you have a duck?”

“Don’t you remember?” he asked. “This is the same duckling that wouldn’t leave us alone in the park yesterday. Had to practically run from it to–”

“ _You_ ran from it, love,” Aziraphale reminded him. “And, if I remember correctly, you also kicked this poor thing!”

“I didn’t _kick him,_ angel!” Crowley protested as he pushed his sunglasses up and into his hair. The duckling flicked its wings as it chirped. “I _carefully pushed_ him away with my foot.”

“Before running. For goodness sake. That still doesn’t answer my question.”

Crowley pursed his lips and sighed. “Well…if you must know…” He paused and tapped his fingers on the sofa cushion. “I went to the park before coming here and…sought him out…to see if he was alright.”

“Because you kicked him?”

“ _I didn’t!”_

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Oh, my apologies. You carefully–”

“Anyway, angel! I wanted to see if it found its way back to his mother.”

Another quiet pause.

“And?” Aziraphale asked.

“And…it…it was sitting under our bench.”

He looked at his angel who was grinning with much adoration.

“Shut up!” Crowley demanded.

Aziraphale laughed. “I didn’t say anything!”

“You’re just a part of this as I am!”

“This little one imprinted on _you,_ darling, not–”

He stopped talking when he realized that the duckling had now settled in his own lap and it looked up at him and peeped as it stretched out its neck for more pats.

“Oh…bugger.” 

Crowley giggled in triumph. “I always thought you’d make a good mother.”

“Now, _you_ shut up.” Aziraphale gave in and pet the duckling’s head once more. “What are we going to do, then? I can’t keep a duck in the shop.”

“Why not? People are used to the giant snake that hangs about.”

“ _Some_ people, my dear.”

“Right, well, what difference would a duck in the shop make?”

“No! Absolutely not!”

Crowley sighed again. “Well, what about your bathtub, eh? You hardly use it…well, unless we’re on a date, but until then, you could fill it with water and he’ll be as happy as a lark…or mallard…or whatever it is!”

“The answer is no!”

“Some mother you are!”

The duckling started to peep louder and flapped its wings. 

“Don’t raise your voice!” Aziraphale scolded. “You’re upsetting the baby!”

“James is just hungry.”

“Who the hell is James?”

Crowley licked his lips and cleared his throat.

“Oh, no,” Aziraphale groaned. “You named it?”

“Well, I don’t wanna keep calling him ‘the duck.’ It’s not–”

“Nice?”

“Watch it!”

“You named him, Crowley, so why should _I_ keep him?”

“We can co-parent.”

“Beg your pardon?”

Crowley shrugged. “Three days at your place, three at mine, and then alternating Sundays.”

“You’re ridiculous!” Aziraphale said. “I am not keeping this duck–”

“James.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes again and groaned. “ _James_ in my shop. I’m putting my foot down.”

“What am I supposed to do with him, angel?”

He cupped the tiny duckling in his hands. “We have to take him back to the park. He doesn’t belong in a flat, Crowley.”

“He’s got no mother!”

“Maybe she’s lost track of him,” Aziraphale pointed out. “She’s probably looking for him. You know how many duck families there are in the park. Maybe he thought we were safe because we feed them so much.”

“Speaking of which, let’s get going.” He stood from the sofa and almost made it out of the back room before Aziraphale stopped him.

“ _Where_ are we going?” 

“To breakfast. We have a date, yes?”

Aziraphale put the duckling to his chest and continued to pet its back as he stood. “Well, yes, but–”

He gave him a curious look but then his eyes widened. “Crowley, we can’t take a duck into Dean Street!”

Crowley grinned. “Why not? He can have porridge. Or eggs. Well…maybe not eggs. That would be cannibalism…would it be, though? Not like their fertilized or anything, but still…”

“Out of the question!”

“You may want to order something other than your usual egg dish, love. I don’t want James to think we don’t care. Either that or leave him here, so–”

“Crowley, I said I put my foot down and that’s _that!”_

Half an hour found them sitting in the Dean Street Townhouse by the window with Aziraphale trying to concentrate on slicing his Eggs Benedict while also making sure no one was looking as Crowley sneaked half-spoonfuls of porridge and milk to the yellow duckling that was tucked away in his jacket.

\------------------------

The peeping from the lavatory was getting louder and Aziraphale, after having read the same sentence three times, put down his book and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Why won’t he stop?” he groaned.

“You put him in there by himself and shut the door,” Crowley explained. He was lying on the sofa with his head in Aziraphale’s lap and scrolling on his phone.

“You’re the one that _told me_ to fill up the tub so he can swim and feel at home. He hasn’t stopped crying!”

“Maybe he’s hungry again.”

“Stop feeding him, Crowley. He’s going to burst.”

“Ducks eat all the time.” He sat up and walked toward the kitchen. “Here. I’ll give him another cracker.”

“There are no more crackers,” Aziraphale reminded him. “He ate them.”

“Why don’t you let him walk around, then?” Crowley asked. “He’s probably bored.”

There was a loud flapping noise and the sound of webbed feet splashing about, and Aziraphale sighed. 

“Fine, go get him, then.”

Crowley grinned as he opened the bathroom door. “Hallo, James!” he greeted him. 

The duckling flapped his wings again.

“What’s all the noise, eh? Don’t you like to swim? Trust us to adopt a duck that doesn’t like water.”

“We have _not_ adopted him!” Aziraphale shouted from the sofa.

“Don’t listen to your mother.”

The flat was now silent and he picked up his book. He continued to read but stopped when he heard the sound of the water sloshing around again and the sound of what seemed to be happy duckling noises.

“Crowley?”

No answer. 

He left his book and peeked into the bathroom.

“What…on earth?” he asked.

Crowley had stripped down to his boxers and was now sitting in the water. James was quite excited about it as he swam in fast circles around him.

“See?” the demon said. “He’s just lonely.” He looked up to find Aziraphale gone. “Angel?”

He shrugged when he got no reply. “Who needs him, eh?” he asked James, who was still circling him. “You’re a fast one!”

“Oh, Crowley.”

He looked up to find that Aziraphale was back in the door and had his mobile aimed at him. The camera shutter sound effect was going off over and over again. 

“Hey, wait a minute!” Crowley yelled. 

“This is the most adorable thing ever,” Aziraphale said through his giggles.

“I am not adorable! I’m a _demon!”_

James suddenly swam up to him and hopped onto his shoulder.

Aziraphale couldn’t stop the noise that came from him. “Ohhhhhh, now that is too precious!!”

“Stop taking pictures!” 

“Fix your hair a bit, dear.”

“Bloody heavens, I _never_ should have taught you how to use that bloody camera feature!”

“This is going to The Gram.”

“Don’t you dare, and stop calling it ‘The Gram!’“

Later that night, lying in Aziraphale’s bed, Crowley was reading the many text messages he received from The Them, Madame Tracy, and Anathema. He shook his head at every last snarky one of them.

“I want a divorce,” he muttered.

Aziraphale tutted. “We’re not even married yet.”

“Fine, I’ll marry you and _then_ we’ll get a divorce.”

“What if I don’t agree?”

Crowley was silent as he pursed his lips. He put down his phone and looked at him. “Then I’ll run off and I’ll get full custody of James.”

Aziraphale giggled softly.

He took off his reading glasses and looked down at the tiny yellow duckling that had settled between them.

“You know he has to go back to the park tomorrow.”

Crowley slumped onto his pillow and looked up at the ceiling.

“Yeah…” he mumbled. “What if we can’t find his mother?”

“Well,” Aziraphale said as he laid down. “Maybe we can stick him with another duck family.”

Crowley sighed and turned of his lamp. “Yeah,” he said again.

“Darling.”

“Good night, angel.”

——————–

“Where are they?” Crowley asked.

They were at the pond and scanning the banks for duck families, but no such luck. 

He held James close to him as they walked.

“Surely, they haven’t migrated.”

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale said. “They’re too young to fly right now. Let’s just keep walking.”

They did so until they reached their usual bench again and sat down. 

James settled in Crowley’s lap and Aziraphale looked down at him and stroked his head.

“Are you cross with me?” he asked Crowley.

He shook his head. “Nah, angel. He doesn’t belong in a flat. Or in a book shop.”

“You always had a soft spot for young ones, my love,” Aziraphale told him. “I know that’s something you may not want to hear, but–”

“No, you’re right.” He gave James light scratches on his back. “I just hope we–”

He was interrupted by a loud quack and they looked down to see a white duck with seven other yellow ducklings.

The duck quacked again and James jumped in Crowley’s lap and flapped his tiny wings.

“Is this your mummy, then?” he asked, with small grin. “Off you go, James.”

He gently set him on the ground and James eagerly ran to his family. The other ducklings peeped loudly as they walked away. 

The two watched as they trotted to the bank of the pond and jumped into the water.

Aziraphale felt Crowley’s hand grasp his and he smiled as he squeezed it.

“We did a good thing, dear,” he said.

“I know…” Crowley replied, his voice tight.

They sat for another moment to watch them swim until Crowley rose from the bench, gently tugging Aziraphale’s hand.

“Lunch?”

“Yes, that’s a good idea.”

They walked hand in hand back to the Bentley and Crowley took one last look back at the pond before saying, “I spotted a new curry place on the way here.”

“Oh, marvelous! Let’s try it.”


	2. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a few readers and Tumblr followers wondering about James. So here you go.

**Three Months Later**

"What a gorgeous day," Aziraphale said as they stood at the pond.

They were watching the ducks bob and dive into the water, their webbed feet kicking as they tried to grab morsel of bread that was quickly sinking to the bottom.

One mallard suddenly dove and then popped back up and interrupted a gaggle of young geese that were calmly swimming. The commotion of flapping wings and splashing water brought a sly chuckle to Crowley.

"Ducks would make great demons," he said.

Aziraphale was tearing off a bit of day-old bread from the local bakery. "How so, darling?"

"They're mischievous, aren't they?" he replied. "They like to upset order, they're territorial--"

"Are _you_ territorial, then?"

Crowley looked at his fiance who was giving him an ironically wicked grin.

"I have certain possessions that I would like to keep close, yes."

He gave a quick look around and then sneaked a quick kiss on his cheek. 

"You sound as if there's another demon that has his eyes on me."

"Is there?"

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, still grinning. "Yes, my love," he said, flatly. "It just so happens there's another demon that's been roaming the world for 6000 years just so he can have me _all_ to himself. A rather dastardly one, too, you know? Horns and all, breathes fire."

He turned away and continued to toss small crumbs of bread into the pond.

Crowley's hands were now on his hips, but his smile grew bigger. "Hm, we must send him a Save the Date, then," he said, breaking off a chunk of bread. "Where does he reside?"

"Last I heard,10 Downing Street."

Crowley let out a sharp laughed as Aziraphale giggled. "You rascally angel!"

"I had you going, though, didn't I, love?" He ripped off another chunk of bread. "Incidentally, Crowley, _we_ haven't even saved a date yet. Or picked a place. Or food. And who's going to officiate?"

"I have all that arranged, angel. Leave it all to me."

"I will do nothing of the sort!"

Crowley wiped loose crumbs from his hands and turned to him. "Right, the date I don't have, but I was thinking we could get married here."

Aziraphale paused in throwing crumbs and his face softened. "Here? In the park?"

"Why not?" Crowley asked. "It's our place. We're here almost every day."

"Oh...darling, that's..." Aziraphale gave him a loving smile. "I think that's a wonderful idea. Perhaps...under one of the large shady trees here."

"Spring?"

"Oh, yes! All the cherry blossoms will be in bloom, then."

"Right, so a spring wedding. What's next?"

"The _cake_ , dear. Please!"

"Yes! Very important, that!" He pulled out his mobile and pulled up the maps application. "I actually have found a bakery we can visit. Today, if you'd like."

Aziraphale gasped. "Really?"

Crowley grinned. "Yeah. They're sort of expecting us any time. I told them we're looking around for cakes for the big day, and I told them they can bake whatever my fiance likes."

"Dearest, don't pin this decision on me!"

"You're the expert on sweets, my angel. Also, did you know that we can sample _all_ of their cakes before picking the one we want?"

The angel made a face that looked as if Christmas had come early. "Are you serious? No limits?"

"No limits, love! We can sample everything in their shop if we wanted to." Crowley assured him. He playfully bumped his shoulder into his. "Knew you'd appreciate that bit of information."

"Well...dear, if you don't mind, perhaps we can...sample some cakes after our lunch."

Crowley looked at him to find him wearing the most hopeful look any angel could give when it came to the prospect of free pastries.

He reached over and smoothed down an errant blonde curl along his temple. "You are quite the spoiled one, aren't you?"

"Your fault, dearest." He shimmied his shoulders in a triumphant wiggle and crumpled up the empty bread bag. "Now, who will officiate?"

"Shadwell."

Aziraphale suddenly sneered. "Shadwell? That abhorrent, obstinate, twisted bigot?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Crowley, I absolutely _refuse_ to have that man anywhere near our wedding!"

"He's already agreed, angel."

Aziraphale frowned. "He has?"

"Yep...well, ngk...sort of..."

"What does that mean?"

Crowley shrugged. "Madame Tracy mentioned he was an ordained minister, which I found quite suspect, but he showed me the paperwork. Of course, when I asked if he would like to marry us, he nearly took out my eye with a piece of the Madame's good bone China."

"Which comes back to my point of him--"

"Of him officiating our wedding."

"Crowley!"

"He's made a promise to Tracy and that's a very dear thing to him...surprisingly."

Aziraphale sighed. "Fine...but if he so much as gives me a nasty looking twitch of his eye, I will absolutely go off. Do you hear? I will _go off!_ "

Crowley stifled a giggle at his fiance's use of a phrase he heard Pepper use when Brian continued to tease her just a bit too much when they visited the zoo.

"Right, that's it. I need tea," the angel huffed. "Would you like one, dear?"

"Just a small one, angel," he replied as he pulled out his wallet. 

"No, no, darling. My treat."

"Take the money," Crowley insisted.

Aziraphale sighed and reluctantly took the five pound note before turning toward the tea truck.

Crowley stood still, watching the geese and ducks continue to fight over the crumbs of bread and crackers that were floating all around the pond.

He grunted when he felt something nudge his boot, and he looked down to see a pure white duck staring up at him.

He showed the duck his empty hands. "No more bread, mate," he told it. "Plenty out there, if you want to risk your neck."

The duck tapped its webbed feet as it continued to stare up at him.

"What do you want?" Crowley asked it. 

He slowly took off his sunglasses. Usually, the ducks would scamper away in a panic the moment his snake eyes were revealed (a trick he sometimes used when ducks began to crowd them for food), however, this duck only continued to look at him.

Crowley frowned curiously and slowly knelt beside it. The duck didn't even move when he did; it only came closer.

They stared at one another a moment longer until the duck let out a short quack and flicked its wings.

Crowley's face softened. 

"James?"

The duck quacked louder and wiggled his tail before hopping into Crowley's lap, and the demon carefully put an arm around him to keep him from slipping.

"Oh...well, I'll be blessed!" he laughed. "Hallo, James!"

He put his shades back on as James settled himself more comfortably on his lap. Crowley continued to pet his back and ignored all the amused passersby.

"Crowley?" came Aziraphale's voice next to him.

He looked up to find his fiance holding a cardboard tea tray in one hand and his mobile in the other.

"You and that damned camera, angel," Crowley said with a smile.

Aziraphale put away his mobile and knelt beside them. 

"I can't believe it," he said. "Is it really James?"

"Of course, darling! Look at him." Crowley giggled. "No other duck has ever done this. I'm sure it's him."

Aziraphale opened up the sack that held the scone he just bought and broke off a small piece. He crumbled it in his hand and put the bits into Crowley's.

"There you are, my dear."

Crowley smiled at him and held his hand in front of James who immediately pecked at the crumbs. 

\--------

At lunch time, as they sat waiting for their order, Crowley unlocked his mobile and checked Instagram. He noticed he was tagged in a post on the page he helped Aziraphale set up, and he pressed the notification.

The post was two pictures of James in his lap: one taken from the tea truck and the next one was a shot of Crowley smiling up at him, wearing his dark shades as James was tilting his head to get a good look at the angel.

The caption read: "Birds of a feather #james"

Crowley grinned, liked the photos, and put away his mobile just as their appetizer appeared.

"You know," he told Aziraphale, "we still need a ring bearer."

The angel didn't look at him as he helped himself to a stuffed mushroom. 

"Dearest, I love you and I love James, but the answer is no."


End file.
